


Dying is easy, Living is harder

by Pseudonymous_Entity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonymous_Entity/pseuds/Pseudonymous_Entity
Summary: What if Harry saw Hogwarts less as an escape and more as an opportunity to change his life? What if he chose greatness? Alternate first year. Includes magical and pureblood culture





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter sat motionless on a small stool in a room full of people he didn't know. A large talking hat rested on his head and over his eyes, blocking the room from view. Even in the sudden darkness the magical artefact provided Harry did not forget the room and the eyes surrounding him outside of it.

For a child who'd been trained all his life to remain unnoticed, to be invisible, the demanding and curious stares felts like heat from a fire's flames licking along his skin. He was keenly aware in that moment that every single person watching cared what would happen next. Every single person.

Harry's knees did not shake nor did his small hands. The nails of those fingers dug into the flesh of his palms, unseen by the eyes watching him. He may not know much of anything about magic or wizards or the world he was entering, but Harry knew from experience that showing weakness was just asking for any predator looking to start chewing on your neck. Harry had enough of being a chew toy in the real world. The muggle world, he corrected himself. And he had no desire to be one here.

You could be great…

Up until this moment Harry had viewed the magical world and everything in it as an escape from his life at the Dursleys. He didn't have to be the mistake under the stairs here. But…that was a mistake. He shouldn't have been thinking that way, he knew that now. Harry had not been blinded the majesty of Hogwarts upon seeing it. He was not distracted by the amazing ceiling of the Great Hall. They were great, wonderful things. Displays of magic and the might of the magical world.

Instead, Harry had been listening. He'd been listening and analyzing the words of the strange talking hat which now rested over his brow. This thing, this artefact, would decide where he would go and the people he would be associated with for the rest of his school career. The hat would decide what sort of person Harry was and give him a label for the rest of the world to see and judge him by.

Harry's fingers flexed, digging deeper into his palm. This was no vacation. An escape from the Dursleys? Yes, but only a temporary one. This was an opportunity to make more of himself than he had been. More than Aunt Petunia would have him believe or think. A chance to prove himself. Harry wanted that chance more than anything. This was the world he was always meant to be in, and the people living in it expected much from him.

Where would suit him best? Harry didn't think of himself as particularly clever or friendly or noble or cunning. What if he didn't belong in any of the houses? What if none of their qualities described him? Would he be turned away then, made to walk out past all of the children who did belong here, back into the boat and back across the lake. Would he return to the Dursleys and forever be the boy under the stairs until they saw fit to kick him out?

No. That wouldn't be him. That was not his story, not his fate.

Outside of the hat students caught one another's eyes and whispered to nearby ears. Even the staff sat up a little straighter. All of them much interested in the boy who took so long to be sorted. All at once the whispering trailed off and a thick silence weighed down upon the hall of students. Many jumped nearly out of their skin when, finally, the Sorting Hat declared: SLYTHERIN.

No one clapped. No one dared whisper.

Shock. Surprise. Suspicion. Their eyes followed the small boy with messy ink coloured hair as he removed the hat from his head and handed it to the tall strict witch standing beside him. His footsteps became the only sound breaking the silence as they made their way across the room. Left. Right. Left. Bringing their owner to the table decorated in silver and green. Without a word the boy took a seat on the bench and turned his head politely to the front to continue watching the sorting.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Someone's goblet slipped from their grasp and shattered on the floor. Time sped up. The next new student was introduced, the mess cleaned up, and the sorting continued. During it the occupants of the room couldn't help but keep peering over at the smallest boy in Slytherin, sitting at the far end of one of the benches. He acted is if he hadn't a clue he was the object of so much attention. And even the headmaster's twinkling eyes behind golden spectacles found their way to the house of green and silver during his welcoming speech. The food appeared, the feast began. Talking resumed.

At the table, on the bench, eyes were subtler in their seeking. Conversation artfully skipped around the subject of everyone's curiosity. One Harry Potter sat straight in his seat, eating slowly and carefully. One of his hands lay on his lap hidden beneath the table, fingers curled into his palm. He sat beside the blonde-haired boy he had alienated earlier in the day. He sat on the opposite side of the hall from the boy he would have liked to be friends with.

He was alone in a strange new world.

Harry raised his eyes -the exactly colour of the green on the banners on the wall behind him- and met the eyes of every single person at his table who happened to be looking at him at that moment. Most of them quickly looked away. Some of them sneered first or briefly held the contact, challengingly. Harry kept his chin up and ate his meal with as much grace as he could muster. He focused on every business or social meal he watched the Dursley's eat from the shadows of his cupboard or outside the window. He mimicked every move his Aunt Petunia made or attempted to make.

He didn't know a whole lot about the wizarding world yet but he knew these looks and he knew these faces. And he was a very quick learner. Harry might be a little behind everyone else right now but with some effort on his part that would change. He would watch. He would pay attention. He would learn. And one day, many years from now, he would be great.

The feast finished and they were dismissed to their dormitories. Older students called prefects led them in a line from the Great Hall out into the corridor. Harry followed along trying to keep track of the way. Out into the corridor, Harry thought, then a left in the main hall and down straight to the end. Take a right and go down the stairs to the next floor. Down to the end of that hall, another right and stop halfway. Go down the stairs to the dungeon level…

The temperature began to drop the lower they went and the number of students and staff had depleted as well as they entered into Slytherin territory. A slight chill brushed along Harry which he ignored. He'd been cold before after all. To his left Draco Malfoy shuddered and pulled his thick cloak tight around his throat, pale cheeks glowing pink. Harry had not thought to buy a warm cloak or even an actual coat. He had a slightly thicker school cloak in his trunk somewhere. It was not the nice fur-lined comforter in disguise that Draco had with him. He didn't dare to be too obvious about but as he examined the students closest to him he noted several had planned ahead to where long-sleeved shirts or jumpers under their school cloaks and nearly all of them had their scarves out and around their necks to keep them warm.

Harry tried to remember if Ron had had a scarf. He thought maybe he did though he couldn't be sure if that was genuine planning on the redhead's part or simply his mother's overprotectiveness coming into play. Harry been regaled with stories of Ronald's mother for a good portion of the trip and was inclined to believe from what he knew of Ron that his mother had forced him to have it. Still, even now he could spot how he was less prepared than his peers. If anyone wondered why on earth he hadn't worn a scarf or a cloak they did not voice it aloud.

Fine by me, Harry thought. Gives me more time to come up with an excuse.

Eventually they stopped in gleaming torchlight by a bit of blank wall with no tapestry or portrait adorning it. The prefect who appeared most in charge, a wizard, gave them a sly smile. A word whispered in Latin caused the wall to sort of wake up and slide to the side revealing the Slytherin common room within. Harry's shoes sunk deep in the carpeting as they entered. It wasn't too bright or loud here. A comforting hum of low voices buzzed about him along with crackling from two very large fireplaces.

He could see a group of older boys talking near one and moving their hands excitedly through the air and amused himself with guessing what they might be talking about. Look how clean the air is I can swipe my hand and no pollution poofs up! or, I use an expensive lotion, see how my skin glows? Or even, did you see how fast my owl flies?

The older students not given a prefect's badge -or considering the luminosity of their skin- were either gathered together in various groups greeting one another or already in their dorms. Harry could see a few seated at a dark wooden desk to the left far wall near a book case with the bookbags beside their feet and quills scribbling away. What could they possibly be working on? Harry frowned. Or perhaps they were writing home. He realized belatedly that that was probably a common thing for people with families that didn't despise them. You write to them to let them know you arrived safely.

Ron and his brothers were probably doing the same.

He was aware of the conversations going on around him in an underwater, blurry way. Like he was walking through it but not a part of it. Eyes flickered in his direction occasionally but most people seemed fully set on their own business now. Whether the novelty of his appearance at their table had worn off or if they simply forgot he was there he did not know. Harry puffed a bit of air through his lips, ruffling his messy fringe. One more thing to add to the list of things he did not know.

They were led to four short stairs going up to an archway which gave them view of a long hallway. Harry could see other students turning either way at the end and so suspected there were additional hallways. He turned out to be correct. The prefects led them to the end of the hallway.

The wizard prefect turned to them once again with a wide smile that curled along the edges. "Alright you lot. Down to my left you have the witches' hall. Just walk down until you see your year above the tunnel leading off the main hall. Down it you'll see a row of doors on either side. The doors that have surnames on plaques beside them are the dorms. Finding your dorm is self-explanatory I should think. The door on the other side is the bathroom. Don't get excited ladies." He said, lines creased along the edges of his dark eyes which glinted. He had an Irish accent and a low voice with a bit of gravel in it. "There's just the one toilet and a double sink with mirror, and a shower. Same as the boys."

He waited for two of the girls to look disappointed. "Never fear. Make it to third year and you'll get a bigger one like the rest of us. Until then there's the big community shower room off the entry hall. If you're brave that is." His female counterpart, who had the same dark eyes and heavy brows, scowled at his before ushering the less enthusiastic girls down the witches' hallway.

"Same with you. This way lads." He nodded to his right and lead them down the hall. Just as he had explained to the girls there were tunnels leading off the main hallway with a number over each one. They walked until they reached the number one tunnel, which was also the farthest from the main hall. The prefect turned to them again. He surveyed them.

"Alright, go ahead and find your dorms. Your trunks and belongings ought to have made their way to your dorms by now. If anything is missing catch me or another prefect and we'll see to figuring out what has gone wrong. If your parents are sending it along after you it should be in the entry hall on the main floor of the castle near the visitor's floo. We have a list of names and will be calling them out in the morning to take you so be listening if that'll be you. Hopefully you remembered your overnight kit." He waved at them.

"Go on then, I have more to do then talk with you all night you know."

Harry turned with the other boys.

"Just a minute Potter." Harry paused, confused and turned back around.

"Er, yes? Sir?" Harry gathered there was some sort of hierarchy in effect he simply didn't know it or how he was meant to address anyone. Being polite ought to help him skate by until he did know at least.

The prefect's lips twitched. "Kelly. Faelan Kelly. That's prefect Kelly to you."

Harry nodded.

Prefect Kelly looked Harry up and down for a minute. "Alright look. No one else is going to tell you so I'm going to go out on a limb here and give you a heads up. So listen and don't make this a waste of my time." It wasn't phrased like a question but Harry nodded again anyway. "No one knows what to make of you right now. There have been whispers of course, that you might be like him. Other people look at you or hear your name and they see the person responsible for their family member's imprisonment or the loss of their family's good name or -honestly- the one who prevented their goals." He paused. "So, while they are all thinking all of these things you went and you got yourself sorted into Slytherin. A lot of the old supporters are here. Their children I mean. Those families."

Another pause. "Try to learn surnames and histories quickly if you don't already know them." His tone implied he didn't think Harry knew them. He was right. "Know who you're talking to before you talk to somebody and if you don't know, try to keep quiet or at least polite. These are just kids I know. But they're also not. They can make things difficult. Don't give them the opportunity. You…have a chance here to make this work for you. No one knows anything about you. You never go to any social events and you never hold a party for your birthdays, not even your eleventh to present your letter and celebrate your official entrance into society. We never see you at a solstice celebration or a ministry function. No one knows who raised you or what you think. You have a small window where you can use that, I suggest you do so." Kelly turned away.

"Why?" Harry was surprised to hear himself asking.

Kelly turned his head back to catch his eyes. "Half-bloods gotta stick together?"

Harry frowned. "Try again."

Kelly turned all the way around now, grinning. Harry wondered if he approved of being questioned. "Maybe I'm curious what will become of you. Maybe I'm hopeful you'll do well and remember me down the road. Maybe I'm doing this to benefit myself in some unknown fashion. Either way, it benefits you doesn't it? Have a good night Potter."

Kelly disappeared down the tunnel leaving Harry alone in the torchlight.

Thinking.

Eventually Harry decided to head into his dorm as well. He located the right door, his name just to the right of it, and entered. He headed straight for the bed he knew to be his based on his trunk being situated at the foot of it. All of the beds were fourposter with curtains. They were on either side of the room with a carpet down the middle. Each bed space also had a low table, an oil lamp, and a wardrobe. There was a bit of wall with a tapestry or portrait between the last wardroom and the next bed to give the students the appearance of their own space. Harry's bed was on the right hand side and down on the other end was a bed. The left side had three beds.

Draco Malfoy had gotten, or chosen, the bed on the left closest to the door and thus the only one Harry passed on his way to his own. He could feel the boy's silver-grey eyes on him, following him across the room. It made him nervous, made him second guess every move he made. Managing to hold it together Harry removed his cloak and hung it in his wardrobe. He kept his eyes to himself, hoping if he seemed like someone who kept out of other people's business that his roommates might deign to do the same for him.

It was Charms first thing the next day so Harry brought out his Charms textbook and climbed onto his bed. With the curtains closed he could pretend no one was in the room with him but, as with the hat, he was still very much aware that he was not alone. At least this time no one else could see him either. He put his pillows into a pile and leaned against them not bothering to remove his clothes. He had no pajamas after all and it was hardly anyone else's business if he slept in his cousin's old clothes rather than proper bedclothes.

Relieved that he was free from socialization the rest of the night, provided no one drew open his curtains and demanded his attention, Harry allowed himself to relax and focus on the text in front of him. He was going to take Kelly's words seriously. The last thing he needed was for everyone to think he couldn't do magic on top of being ignorant.

When Harry woke the next morning he found his Charms book still open beside him on whatever page he'd been trying to read before falling asleep. His left wrist ached a bit from repetitive wand movement. Still, Harry was determined to do well. It would pay off in the end. He pulled back his curtains cautiously. His roommates were still asleep it seemed. He pondered going back to sleep before dismissing the idea. He was already used to waking early he might has well use the time it gave him.

Harry slid his feet off the bed. He grabbed a uniform and padded to the door, opening and closing it quietly. On the other side was a single door, which according to Kelly, ought to be their bathroom. Harry knocked and waited a moment to ensure no one else was up early as well before entering. He rinsed himself off in the shower quickly, dressed and stuffed his muggle clothes into the clothes hamper. From what he had overheard from that Hermione girl's ramblings, the clothes were cleaned and repeared on the correct student's bed that evening. This worked well enough for Harry as he hadn't even thought of how their things would get cleaned before she brought it up and he didn't desire to be caught with muggle clothes either. Everyone else managed to have personal clothes that fit. Even Ron who Harry gathered was far from wealthy. No one needed to know he wore his cousin's hand-me-downs.

Finished Harry reentered the dorm long enough to grab him bookbag and the books he'd need for the day. One or two upper years were conversing by the fire when he came into the common room. Apart from them it was still empty. Harry walked over to the bit of wall he thought was the entrance and was pleased when it slid of its own accord to let him through. At least he wouldn't have to try to remember the password to get out. That would have been embarrassing. He spent the next ten minutes doing his best remember the way back to the great hall. He made one mistake but ultimately found himself walking into the entrance hall and locating the great hall doors off to the right.

The great hall was much the same as his common room had been. Only a few upper years already up and almost no staff either. Harry glanced down the Slytherin table before deciding to wrap a slice of toast in a napkin and stuff it in his robes. He asked a Ravenclaw prefect how to get to the library. She was a blonde girl with a ponytail at the top of her head and thin wireframe glasses. She ended up escorting him there herself, explaining that was he next destination as well.

They parted ways at the library entrance with Harry murmuring a thank you. He had two hours until Charms. That was enough time to quickly reread the first chapter and then skim the first chapters for History of Magic and Defense.

The time went by quickly and before he knew it Harry was walking through the halls toward the Charms corridor. He spied Slytherin robes ahead and followed along behind them. He was pretty certain that witch with short hair was one of the other first years. Meredith or something, he thought. He followed behind her group and stepped smoothly into line behind them when he saw the rest of the first year Slytherins and some Gryffindors.

Harry jumped when he heard a thud behind him. He turned to see sandy haired boy on his knees breathing heavily. Noticing Harry's gaze the boy flashed him a smile. "Those stairs give us great exercise, don't you think?" The boy asked, struggling to his feet.

Harry felt a small smile on his face. "I suppose this is their clever way of giving us a physical education without having to put out the money for an instructor."

The other boy stared at Harry for a minute. Then he full on grinned. "Rotten cheats." He agreed. "I'm Finnegan by the way."

Harry hesitated, unsure if he was supposed to respond with his surname as well or not. Fortunately the door came open behind them and a voice Harry assumed belonged to their professor instructed them to come inside. They filed in obediently. Harry chose a desk at random, pulled out his textbook which he laid on the desk and slid his bag under his chair. As he sat up he blinked several times when he noticed Finnegan had materialized into the seat beside him. A quick glance around confirmed everyone else had stuck to their houses. He raised a brow at the other boy who mirrored it in response. Harry shrugged and turned forward. Who knows, maybe he'd turn out to be the son of a Charms whiz or something.

Harry listened patiently to the theory portion of the class and frowned when Professor Flitwick announced they wouldn't begin practical work until the end of the following month. If he'd known that he would have spent his time reading up on some other subject. Apparently he wasn't the only one unhappy with this turn of events because the girl from the train, Hermione Granger, was waving her hand frantically and soon began arguing with the professor. Harry winced. Beside him Finnegan nodded as if he'd read Harry's mind.

"Begging for homework, can you imagine?"

"Perhaps she is especially interested in Charms?" Harry suggested weakly. Finnegan's snort implied he believed otherwise.

Harry glanced at Finnegan. "Actually," He said slowly, "I was sort of hoping we'd get into it right away."

Finnegan tilted his head and considered him a moment. "You any good?"

"At what? At Charms?" The Gryffindor nodded.

Harry shrugged. "Well I don't know. The first year material is obviously very easy, we're just learning. I don't have any ideas how I'll do when we get to harder charms. The theory is easy enough to understand. I do have questions though…." He trailed off.

"Let's see then." Said Finnegan who leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

Harry frowned. "See what?"

"You said it's easy didn't you? Give us a charm then."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Was he making fun of him? With a huff Harry drew out his wand and repeated the swish and flick which was the cause of his wrists current discomfort. "Wingaurdium Leviosa."

The text book in front of him floated a good foot from the desk. He was feeling rather good about himself until his desk partner tossed his textbook on top of Harry's. He scoweled and put a bit more power into it to raise it back up to where it had been. Which of course is when Finnegan started adding more items. It turned into an odd pyramid where the textbooks made up the foundation and next came a small supplementary text for Transfiguration, a pair of gloves, two ink wells and a precarious pile of quills. When he managed to balance it all and keep it a foot above the desk for at least a minute he turned to Finnegan with a smug smile.

"Shall we add anything else?" He taunted.

Finnegan was smiling as well. "Alright, impressive I'll give you that."

"Most impressive!" Came a voice, causing them both to jump. They both looked to the front of the classroom to see an excited Flitwick on his pile of books watching them delightedly. "Oh very well done indeed Mister Potter. Five points to Slytherin."

At this point both boys noticed they'd managed to gather the attention of the entire class. Finnegan glanced around and made a sheepish expression at the glares some of his housemates were shooting at him. "I suppose I oughtn't have helped earn points for a different house."

Harry, cheeks still a bit red from embarrassment, elbowed Finnegan.

"Oh I don't know. Mmaybe you're a good luck charm or something. You bring points to whichever house sits beside you, just so long as they aren't your own. Not so much good luck for you I suppose."

Finnegan groaned and set his head on his desk. "Shut it Potter."

The irish boy got over it quickly enough. Through an unspoken agreement they kept their heads down for the rest of the class, dillgently taking notes. Or Harry did at least. Finnegan -whose first name turned out to be Seamus- spent it drawing Harry levitating increasingly ridiculous things. Boulders. The staff table. Hagrid.

Harry was aware, as class ended that there were eyes on him once more. He knew some of them must be from the Gryffindors who were none to pleased Seamus and thus Harry by association. He did worry a bit if the other Slytherins would think he was a clown or disruptive. The points he earned would hopefully appease them. He would simply avoid interrupting any other classes. They gathered their things and made their way down the aisle. They exited the classtoom. Almost immediately a boy with spiky mouse brown hair and a girl with long black hair fell in step to Harry's left. Startled, Harry slowed down. They also slowed down. After a few minutes Harry sighed and stopped walking altogether.

"Secret meeting?" Seamus suggested. He gave Harry a wave and continued down the hall.

Harry took a breath and turned to the two Slytherins standing across from him. The boy, Theodore Nott, stood with his left shoulder right against the girl's shoulder. Harry thought they probably knew each other before Hogwarts. Most of the other kids seemed to actually. When they kept staring at him and not saying anything and a minute after minute crept by, Harry starting feeling very uncomfortable. What were they waiting for?

It occurred to him that perhaps he ought to introduce himself though he knew they both would already know who he was.

"Er…hello. I'm Harry Potter. Can I help you with something?"

Nott's mouth went up slightly on one end. He exchanged a look with the girl. "I'm Nott and this is Davis."

Abruptly they turned and started down the hall. Perplexed, Harry followed after them, When he caught up he saw a flash of amusement on both of their faces. Annoyed, Harry ignored them as they walked, searching ahead in case they caught up to Seamus.

"Lovely weather today." Said the witch -Davis- out of nowhere.

Harry glanced to the side to see if she were talking to him.

"Isn't it?" Nott replied. "I should think it would be enjoyable to study outside later."

Davis hummed. On of her hands reached up and ran through her long hair. "Near the lake do you think?" She said this ponderously, as if she were trying to envision exactly the right place for them to study.

"That's where everyone will be." Said Nott.

Davis appeared to consider this, while Harry wondered if they even remembered he was walking with them. They both wore long sleeves under their robes, and Davis' robes had some sort of shiny stitching pattern along the seams that glimmered as she walked. This reminded him he desperately needed to figure out some way not to freeze to death in the dungeons.

"I suppose one of the hills overlooking the lake but not so close could do nicely as well. What do you think Potter?"

Harry nearly stumbled, startled out of his thoughts. "Oh I…" So they did know he was still there. Huh. "I think I would look for a spot with some trees."

"Trees." Davis repeated. One beat. Two beats.

Harry realized they were expecting more from him. "Oh, well yeah. If it gets windy you won't have to worry about papers flying anywhere and you can lean against the tree. If it's sunny you'll have some shade." He stopped then unsure what else to say. It wasn't exactly rocket science or anything. It was just a place to study and they could do it just as easy indoors if they liked. He entertained the idea that they were including him in their conversation as some form of politeness. He really wished he knew.

Nott and Davis exchanged a look. "I do think that sounds best." Nott said after a while.

Harry spotted Seamus and the other first years. Unconsciously he'd been following Nott and Davis. He was quite glad they actually knew the way to History of Magic because he had forgotten to consider where they might be headed during that odd conversation. He lined up behind Seamus who gave him a nod and then raised his brow at the two Slytherins behind Harry. He shrugged. At this rate Harry didn't think he would ever understand other Slytherins. He followed Seamus into the classroom and sat beside him again. He didn't really understand Seamus either come to that. Maybe he ought to check out a book on wizarding culture the next chance he got. Maybe then he'd be able to understand. Or not be quite as lost anyway.

Later, upon exiting the class, which turned out to be very boring even with a ghost teaching it, Harry found himself and Seamus followed on the way to lunch by Davis and Nott. When it seemed neither of them planned to say anything Harry decided they simply were trying to get to the great hall, the same as everyone else. He was corrected of this notion when he tried to enter the great hall. Davis came up on one side of Harry and Nott on the other. His head whipped back and forth trying to look at the both of them at once. He swore Seamus was internally laughing at him.

"Finnegan." Nnott greeted. This was the first time either of them had acknowledged Seamus' existence.

The Gryffindor nodded and adopted a faux severe demeanor. "Nott. Davis."

Harry then found himself being lead away from the great hall and toward the doors on the far side of the entrance hall. He blinked but no it was still happening. They reached the doors and pushed them open, stepping out into the sun. He could see other students already out on the grounds enjoying the weather. Seamus had been perfectly fine with his kidnapping. Traitorous Gryffindor.

"Perfect for day for studying." Murmured Davis. She smoothed down her robes with her free hand then nodded to Nott.

As they marched him off across the grounds Harry wondered when exactly he'd agreed to study with them and whether he would ever get any lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry somehow made it through the rest of the week in one piece.

At dinner Thursday evening he found himself sat at the Slytherin table doing everything possible not to slump in relief. Between Finnegan's mischief and the constant odd verbal interactions with Davis and Nott, Harry was quite ready for the week to be over. He took a large sip from his goblet and allowed himself a quiet sigh. If he could only make it back to the common room and shut his curtains he could finally be alone.

He had learned more than how to turn a matchstick into needle that week. He'd learned other, more important things. Trickier things.

His classmates and housemates were all of them arranged in various groupings according to year, the youngest down toward the staff table and the eldest closest to the doors. Whether it was so the older more experienced students could protect their younger schoolmates or so the most valuable and already trained students could escape the great hall the quickest, Harry did not know. He daren't speak his ponderings aloud either.

Mingled within the general year grouping were smaller, mixed groups. There was a rhyme and rhythm to the way the seating arrangement worked and what it meant. Because yes, just where you are sitting can tell other people information about you. A 2nd year normally wouldn't be found sitting with the fifth years. Why would they? There was nothing -usually- a second year might now that a fifth year wouldn't. They couldn't help explain their coursework or gossip about something that happened in class. But you might see a second year sitting beside a fifth year if they both played on the Quidditch team, if they were closely related, if their parents were good friends or allies and the elder had been tasked with keeping an eye on the younger, or if the younger had done something to earn the elder's favour or attention.

Even just among the year groupings there were smaller groups. Those who had formed friends tended to sit with one another. If two popular students in the same year were having an argument you might see students in their year sitting beside the student they sided with, or alternatively sitting farther away to present themselves as a neutral party. Honestly it sort of made his head spin. Harry only rested easy knowing no one much cared what the first years did as it was to be expected that they were finding their footing.

Still….

Harry reached out for his water goblet, using it as an excuse to flick his eyes forward and up. Across from him sat Tracy Davis and Theodore Nott. There was some space to his left and then Millicent, the tallest witch in their year with short dark hair. There was a space to her left as well and in front of her sat Daphne Greengrass, a blonde haired who always wore braids and a green beret she'd gotten last summer in Paris. On the other side of Daphne sat Parkinson. Harry could never remember her first name. Parkinson sat swinging her legs slowly, and was quick to flash a shiny white smile at people and tilt her head so her collar length brown hair slid to the slide in a glossy cascade.

To Parkinson's right was the last of the first years before the second years began. Close but not right beside Parkinson sat Draco Malfoy, his bright white blonde hair easily visible. He sat across from two wide shouldered boys. Crabbe and Goyle Harry thought. They didn't speak much.

Harry sat his goblet down and pretended to rearrange his silverware. He glanced to his right beneath his lashes. There two spaces away from Harry and right at the end of the table sat Zabini. The only thing Harry knew about Zabini was that everyone else avoided him, even the older students.

These arrangements only made the barest amount of sense to Harry. He knew they were supposed to be important he just didn't understand why. Why did it matter that Parkinson and Draco's parents knew one another well and this is why they sat near but not beside one another? What did it matter that Draco never sat on the other end of the table?

Mostly he just wanted someone to explain why Davis and Nott had attached themselves to him. Honestly he was pretty sure they sat across from him just to give everyone else something to talk about. Strangely they rarely spoke to him at meals or even to each other, though they did occasionally murmur something in one another's ears when there secretive and knowing glances weren't quite enough.

All of this watching and analyzing was exhausting.

As soon as he could do so without attracting negative attention Harry patted his mouth with a napkin and placed it on the table. He took his leave without a word to anyone. As he turned outside of the doors and started left toward the hall that would eventually lead him into the dungeons he heard muted footsteps behind him. Harry didn't bother to turn around and look. He already knew he would find Davis and Nott walking along behind him. Now, Harry still didn't know what to make of the odd duo. He was certainly more careful what he said around them anyway.

The first day of school he'd had to cautiously work his way through an impromptu study session where it became apparent both Slytherins expected Harry to help them with their charms work going forward. They had no way of knowing Harry had simply spent the night before practicing. He really didn't think he was doing anything all that impressive. He merely got the spells a little sooner than everyone else because he spent more time on them. Most of his fellow first years seemed to examined the spells presented to them with amused disregarded. Everyone in his year had grown up in a magic household and so the smaller spells weren't anything special to them. Whereas for Harry, even the smallest piece of magic was everything.

He had managed to get through the study session without revealing how little he knew and now it was an everyday occurrence. After morning classes and before they let him have lunch they held a small study session where Harry spewed everything he thought he remembered about charms and answered their questions. If he wasn't sure how to answer them he spent some time that researching and then gave them the answer the following day. Which he supposed didn't help to convince anyone he wasn't some sort of charms expert. Millicent had cottoned on for she had sat on Harry's other side in Potions that morning so she could slip a question about the discussion Flitwick held in class.

Then there was the Herbology Incident as Harry had named it in his mind. It was nice he supposed for people to think he was clever. Honestly though, how could go years working in your aunt's garden and not know something about plants? And though he didn't know anything at all about the magical properties of the plants it seemed entirely logical to him that the growing conditions, the soil and the amount of sunlight and water and so on would have a great effect on the end result when harvesting the plant. Unfortunately, it only drew more attention to him that he wasn't prepared for. He smiled briefly. Well, it wasn't all bad. The Herbology professor who was also the head of Hufflepuff house asked Harry to stay after class.

As he approached her she wiped her hands on the apron she wore over her robes. She gave him a smile he found himself returning cautiously. It turned out she chose one student from each year to be her teacher's assistant and help her with things like setting up before a project or cleaning up after. She had taken Harry around and shown him the green houses. When they got to the flower Harry had stared in a way that would have been embarrassing if there had been any Slytherins around to see it.

"Do you like flowers Potter?" He remembered her asking.

He nodded. "Yes ma'am. I do."

"Why not explore a bit? I have nearly any flower you can think of. Is there any in particular you like?"

He'd started to say it didn't matter before his mouth abruptly chose to say something else and what came out was, "Do you have any lilies?"

He followed her to a section at the far right feeling incredibly foolish and overly sentimental. She presented him with a colourful conglomeration. "I've got Liliuam Bolanderi, Lilium Rubesens, Wood Lily… Oh there's a Martagon Lily just there." She gestured at a collection of pink-red flowers with petals that curled under. Harry ended up spending his entire lunch hour staring at the flowers. When he'd gone to find her and thank her she'd given him a small booklet on flowers which Harry carried with him the rest of the week even though he only had Herbology the one day.

The wall slid away to reveal the calming world of the common room. It wasn't entirely safe there either, people were always watching of course. But Harry took advantage of being a first year and so unworthy of notice. He plopped in the nearest chair and let out a long breath. Tomorrow was the last day and then he could stay hidden in his dorm all weekend if he fancied. He could do this. One more day.

*HP*HP*HP*

Harry pushed his bookbag under his chair and sat down. He was the first to arrive and even the teacher wasn't present. Harry assumed it was alright for him to go ahead and sit since the door was open. Seamus was still eating breakfast when Harry left so there wasn't any point in looking for his arrival. The Gryffindor would sit beside Harry whenever he arrived. Harry wasn't certain when that had become the norm.

Not wanting to sit there doing nothing, Harry decided to pull out his bookbag and dig through it for his flower book. May as well do something productive while he waited. Harry flipped through for the page he'd left off on. In the Lily section of course. After all no one else would ever know the significance and so he could read it without worry someone would glance at it over his shoulder, surmise the reason and then tease him for it.

"…a widespread native region extending from Portugal east through Europe and Asia…"

Sometime later just as Harry was at a particularly interesting section he felt someone prod at his shoulder. Blinking, Harry shook his head and turned to his right.

"Studying Harry?" Seamus said. He turned his lips downward as if disappointed. "And here I thought being friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived would be exciting."

He rolled his eyes and smiled fondly. "I hate that nickname as you well know." Said Harry. "And furthermore, papercuts are especially vicious the higher quality the paper is. I risk accidental suicide through vein leakage several times a day, not counting the times I am doing so just for a class."

Seamus nodded. "Ah yes the much-feared papercut. I did indeed forget that risk."

Setting his book aside Harry pretend to sniff and tilt his head up arrogantly as Draco was one to do. "See that you don't forget it in the future. I can't have a forgetful sidekick you know. What if I require some important potion or enchantment to defeat an enemy and save the world but you've forgotten to bring whatever it is along or to look up the spell? Not very heroic to die just standing there."

"Not Heroic to depend on your sidekick to bring you your secret weapons either." Seamus retorted, setting his own bag aside and getting settled.

Harry waved a hand airily. "It doesn't matter as long as I pose heroically and the bad guy is defeated. That's all anyone will remember anyway."

Seamus nodded, suddenly more subdued. "Isn't that the truth?"

Suddenly the door shut with a loud thud. The entire room jumped. There at the front of the class stood a tall thin man in long dark robes. He stepped into the light and surveyed them. Harry was sitting up straighter before he realized what he was doing. His cheeks flushed but he didn't dare slouch. Something about the air of the man-made Harry feel like a solider being inspected by his general.

"I am potions master Snape and will be your professor for most of you until you begin fifth year, and for a select few I will continue to teach you into your seventh." Black eyes roamed the faces in the seats. Professor Snape stepped to his desk in long slow strides. He went on to call out surnames for attendance. Once that was finished he stopped and stood near his desk once more.

"Let's see where we're all at shall we? What am I working with this year….Patil! Common cold remedy?"

And so it went. He would call out a name at random and ask them a potions related question. Like the type of cauldron best suited to a long brew -one lasting two hours or more- versus a short term or normal range brew. Some of them were topics gone over or mentioned in their potions book. Others seemed to be asked to gauge the students ability to reason (a walnut or a steel stirring rod Mister Longbottom?) or their pre-Hogwarts knowledge on the subject (is it necessary to use gloves when brewing a fever reducer Mister Malfoy?). All in all, Harry was sort of fascinated.

"Finally….Mister Potter." Harry raised his eyes to meet his professor's gaze. The man studied Harry before asking his question, and the small Slytherin will his body not to squirm.

"What would you get if I asked you to add powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Asphodel. Harry knew this. "Asphodel is a type of Lily isn't it sir?" Harry asked first. No one else had asked any clarifying questions but Harry wanted to be certain before he answered.

Professor Snape gave him a small nod.

"Right. Well Asphodel is a Eurasian plant. It has long slender leaves and its roots are long and thin. Ii think you'd need a lot of them to get some powder. So, you probably would try to use as little powder as possible, wouldn't you? Because it would probably cost a lot, the roots I mean. Unless you harvested them yourself. I don't know what wormwood is. I do know that a Wiggenweld Potion also references wood, one that was thought to keep magic away actually. It also uses Asphodel." Harry paused, trying to remember everything he'd read. "Wiggenweld is a common potion and a quick brew. It doesn't use much Asphodel. An infusion requires soaking the leaves of the plant to get an extract of its properties. Infusions usually go along with long term brews. The only long-term brews I know of that use Asphodel are sleeping draughts." Harry paused again then nodded decisively. "Yes, since you're using the Asphodel in combination with the infusion of wormwood I'd say a sleeping draught."

Harry thought it was a good guess. All he had to go off of was what he'd read of his Potions and Herbology books and the flower book he'd gotten two days ago.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry for a split second. Then he turned away and Harry wondered if he had imagined it. "I expect all of you to take notes on the discussion today and choose one topic to expand on. Bring out your texts and turn to chapter one page…"

*HP*HP*HP*

Harry fixed the strap on his bookbag. Walking through the halls of Hogwarts had taught him to consolidate his bookbag. It only contained what he needed for the day plus his flower book. It was sort of silly to carry it around all of the time but there wasn't anyone to call him out on it either. Massaging his shoulder Harry turned and came out into the entrance hall.

"Harry wait!"

Contrary to the request Harry merely slowed down. As he walked beyond the doors and down the steps Seamus fell in beside him. Together they made their way across the grounds.

"Ready for flying? I know it won't be as good as home, we can't even have a broom this year outside of class, but at least we'll get to fly a little." Said Seamus, moving his hands about excitedly. "Next year we're allowed to try out for the Quidditch team. Though the only position that will be open is seeker. Higgs is graduating this year. So unless one of the others completely fail their final exams we probably won't do better than reserve. Still, that means we get the uniform and can sit with the Quidditch team so that's something."

Harry sighed. "Yes Seamus, it would be something."

Seamus Finnegan was a huge Quidditch fanatic. He went to games with his mother and father and had gone to the World Cup last summer. Everything Harry knew of Quidditch came from the run-on passionate ramblings of Seamus. Mostly what he had gleaned was that for classes they'd sit on the brooms and do their best not to fall off. He was much relieved to hear there would be no balls flying around trying to prevent them from doing so, as was the case in the flying sport.

So Harry nodded and gasped in all the right places until they made it to the field where they were to line up. All of the first years took this class together. Gamely Harry allowed the exuberant Gryffindor to lead them to a spot in one of the lines. There were two facing each other with brooms places along the lines. Seamus to the spot to his right. The broom in Harry's chosen spot didn't look quite as beat up as some of the others. They probably went through a lot of wear and tear being the training brooms.

"Potter."

Harry turned, looking through the throng of students to find the owner of the voice. Finally his eyes set on a boy with white blonde hair watching him intently. Draco was walking toward him and Harry thought he might actually take the spot beside Harry before Davis and Nott stepped into the two to his left with a pointed looked in Draco's direction.

"Malfoy," Murmured Davis, running her fingers down her long hair.

"Lovely to see you as always." Said Nott.

Draco stopped in his tracks, silver eyes glancing between them. "Davis. Nott." He greeted with a quick nod at each. The blonde considering the two, his eyes flitting to Harry once. He made an aborted move as if he would continue walking, then he chose a place in the other line with a resigned expression. Harry turned to look at Seamus with a raised brow. He'd learned that trick early on, a way of asking a question without having to voice it aloud.

Seamus leaned close to Harry. "My, aren't we popular?"

Harry scoffed.

A whistle blew. "Line up properly. Everyone next to a broom. Quickly." A witch with spiked hair and yellow eyes ordered. The students all hurriedly arranged themselves to please. "Excellent. Listen up. I'm Madame Hooch and I am the flying instructor. Please note, this is an instruction course. It is not a venue for your show off for your friends nor is a training course for Quidditch. Any unsafe behavior will result in being ground for the rest of term. Understood?"

"Yes madame." They chorused.

"First we'll mount the brooms. In order of instruction. Order one, arms out above your chosen broom. In a firm voice say up. Begin."

All around him his classmates attempted to coax their brooms into obeying them. To his right Seamus put out his arm confidently.

"Up!" The broom rose and smacked into the boy's palm. Seamus shot Harry a smug grin.

Harry jerked his head up at the sound of another voice saying up. In front of him stood Ron Weasley. The redheaded boy from the train. Ron stood there with his broom in his hand. When he saw Harry looking at him he glanced away and shift on his feet nervously.

Harry swallowed. "Hi there Ron. No problem for you is it?"

Ron, who wasn't far enough away to pretend he didn't hear him, chewed his lip. "Yeah I'm alright. I've been flying with my older brothers for years now. I don't think they'd let me live it down if I didn't at least pass the flying class."

Harry frowned. Ron wasn't saying or doing anything wrong, but there was something off in the tone of his voice. It wasn't the same warm voice he remembered. Perhaps he was upset Harry hadn't sought him out?

To his left Nott put his hand out. "Up." When the broom merely gave a weak shake Nott grinned and shrugged. To his left Davis eyed him. She held out her hand and the broom flew right up into it. She turned back to Nott and tilted her head. Nott glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and winked. Without a lick of shame, the boy bent down and picked up the broom.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Go on then Harry." Said Seamus. "Give it a go."

Harry looked at Seamus' expectant face and relented. He couldn't do worse than Nott after all. With only a little trepidation Harry held out his hand. "Up?" It came out as a question but the broom, to his surprise, rose steadily into his palm.

"Asking permission?" Nott and Davis, as Harry was becoming accustomed to, were watching him.

Harry nodded. "Of course. I'd never presume to order a lady to do anything."

Davis' lips curled up at the edges. "A gentleman Theo."

"I'll be certain to guard your virtue in two years' time," Nott said, eyes glinting. "Lest you fall victim to his charms."

Harry's cheeks went beet red. He could hear Seamus laughing at his expense. It turned out to be a very fun class, in Harry's opinion. Once she got them all sat on the brooms with no one falling off Madame Hooch had them lift off a few inches and practicing hovering in place. One exciting moment in the class was when a round faced boy's broom started lifting into the air without his permission. He was to the left of Ron and right across from Seamus. With an exchanged glance Harry and Seamus jumped out and grabbed hold of the end of the boy's broom, holding him in place until Madame Hooch could get him broom back under control.

With his feet back on the ground the boy gave Harry a shy smile. "Thanks. I've never been any good at flying."

"That's alright, we can't all be great. If we were there'd be no one left to cheer us on." Said Seamus.

Harry shoved his arm. "What he means is we all have things we're good at. It doesn't have to be all of the same things."

The boy practically beamed at Harry words. Suddenly Harry remembered him. "Toad." Harry blurted. "Er, I ,mean. Did you ever find your toad?"

The boy blinked. Then his eyes widened. "Oh cripes that was you? Yes, I did actually. I mean I may have lost him again afterword but I found him then too. He's been my pet for a while you see and Ii couldn't bare to bring a cat or something instead…." The boy trailed off.

It was silent for a minute in their section. "I've never had a pet or anything. Until I got my owl that is." Harry offered. "And this way you have something unique, so really I guess I'm a bit jealous. It's nice you get to have your pet with you."

"Better than mine anyway." Ron said.

"Scabbers isn't so bad Ron." Said the round-faced boy.

"You wouldn't say that if he were yours Neville. At least Trevor does things. Scabbers only ever lays there." Said Ron.

Neville. At least he had a name for him now. Class ended. Seamus walked Harry back to the castle. They had a little time until dinner so they went to the library. The good things about Seamus is that he didn't get too curious. Harry could sit opposite him with any book he liked and Seamus wouldn't question his choice. While his friend read various Quidditch books, Harry concentrated on wizarding history. He thought he was getting somewhere. He understood more now than he had in the beginning so he at least had some progress to show for his efforts. He'd taken to making notes as well. He put them in a folder labeled History of Magic and remained reasonable confidant no one would bother to steal it.

He was still a little fretful over Ron's dismissiveness. Then again, he supposed the other didn't have to be friends with him if he didn't wish to be. He felt a keen loss for some unfathomable reason. Like he had lost something valuable before he even had it. In another life perhaps, they would have made great friends. The best of them even.

Pushing it from his thoughts Harry read over his notes. He knew there were twenty-eight families or lines that were considered 'purest' among the wizarding world. He also now knew that he attended school with children from thirteen of those families. In Slytherin alone there were eight of them. The largest collection were the five families represented among the first years. He also knew that Nott was not only one of them but related to the wizard who literally wrote the book on it.

He new their were collections of families called Houses which could be Ancient or Noble or both. Potter for instance was a Noble House and rumoured to be descended from Godric Gryffindor. No pressure, Harry thought Wryly. According to the History of Wizarding Alliances most of the families and lines were related to one another through at least semi-close blood connections. There were many houses and not all of them belonged in the twenty-eight. The children of these houses tended to attend social events during the year with their parents and meet one another through them. Some even had arranged play dates as little children. Which would explain why everyone seemed to know everyone else.

It also meant Harry had to be careful what he said and who he said it to. He didn't have any of the connections the other children had. He smiled, though it seemed Davis and Nott along with Seamus were determined to change this. Even that Neville kid seemed okay. Harry hadn't had any serious social mistakes yet, maybe he could coast along long enough for him to actually know what he was doing.

Harry grabbed another book from the piled and opened it, quill ready to take down more notes. He was getting there. He was going to figure this out. Hell, with Davis and Nott keeping him on his toes he was bound to be acceptably competent by the time he finished his studies.

With this determined outlook Harry faced the next week of classes. He took notes, read ahead he night… He checked out extended reading on the subjects and terminology booklets. He helped in the green houses and managed not to fall off his broom in flying class. Flying came quite naturally to him, he was pleased to find. Ron continued to be distantly polite. Neville often spoke to him now. His last name was Longbottom, which Harry knew from his research belonged to the twenty-eight. Harry made passable potions and gave up altogether on not being impressive in Charms. It was so easy to him he couldn't bother trying to appear average at it. All it took, in his experience, was some dedication to the wand movements and intention and you were bound to get it right by the third try. The extra reading on how the movements related to sigils and runes also aided his understanding of their purpose in relation to the spell being cast.

Another week came and Harry was starting to feel pretty good about his place at Hogwarts. Davis and Nott weren't that bad once you got used to them. He did occasionally spy Draco watching him from across a classroom or hall but the blonde hadn't tried to speak with him again. His research hadn't yet revealed what was going on with that but Harry figured as long as no one threw hexes at anybody else he'd let it go. If Draco really wanted to speak to him he would find a way, Harry had no doubt.

That moment came late one night in early October. It was freezing in the dungeons but Harry had long since learned some warming charms and he hardly noticed the decrease in temperature. Nott was already asleep he surmised from the close curtains on the boy's bed. Harry had just sat down on his own bed and started removing his shoes when the door to the dorm opened.

Draco stopped at the door. Slowly he closed it behind him and padded across the thick carpeting to his bed. Harry felt silver eyes on him as he continued to remove his shoes and set them aside. Even as he set his bag aside and sat back with his chosen books in front of him he felt it. Finally, he raised his eyes to see the blonde watching him intently from his own bed.

"Malfoy." Harry greeted, careful to say the other boy's surname even though he'd already be given permission to use his first. That was before Harry upset him after all.

Draco blinked. Perhaps surprised Harry was speaking to him. "Potter." He said, after a moment.

When he didn't say anything else Harry went back to his books. He did not pull his curtains as he usually did though.

"You like potions."

Harry looked up once more. Draco was looking at the potions book Harry held. It wasn't part of the first year curriculum but it did go more in depth in the various tools used during potions and why. Harry lifted a single brow to ask why it mattered.

Draco pressed on. "I'm fond of it myself. I find it relaxing. It was one of the only things my mum would allow be to practice before eleven. Well basic shielding as well of course…."

Harry let the other boy ramble on. When Draco seemed to collect himself and remember the point to initiating conversation he quietly cleared his throat. "You may have noticed we're the best in our class at the subject."

Harry hadn't known that but he gave a short nod anyway.

"I had a thought it would be nice to work with someone during partnered activities who also liked the subject and knew what they were doing. Spend more time brewing and less explaining maybe." His cheeks tinted pink a bit but Draco didn't lower his eyes.

Harry felt his brows furrow. Then realization. He suppressed a smile at the look on Davis and Nott's faces the next time they had a potions class. "Would you like to partner with me now and then Draco?"

Harry noted belatedly he'd used the other boy's first name. Draco didn't appear to offense. If anything he smiled and his shoulders lowered as if a great weight had been taken off of them. He raised his chin and nodded curtly. "It's settled."

Harry had just started the next chapter when he heard a faint, "Good night Harry." Coming suspiciously from the blonde's bed.

Harry grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday, less than a week from Halloween, found Harry in a corner of the library.

He was alone for once. No cryptic bantering from Davis and Nott, no quidditch talk or teasing from Seamus. Harry was seated at what he come to think of as his table. It was tucked in a corner away from the windows and halfway in distance between the back wall where the reference books were locates and the front entrance of the library. The books on the shelves closest to his table were thick wordy tomes on obscure magical theory. A side effect of this was that very few people, and almost no one under sixth year, bothered to come anywhere near this section.

Harry only ever sat here when he was alone. Hey, everyone needed a place to be by themselves outside of the occasional bathroom break, didn't they? He set up his table according to the organization he found suited him best. A relevant terminology or reference book in the middle of the table within easy reach. His parchment to the left along with his quill and ink. The book he was currently looking in to his right, and a stack of books relating to the subject on the seat of the chair to his right. His bookbag as always was pushed under his chair, out of habit more than any actual affect of convenience or necessity.

Harry smiled wryly to himself.

He'd imagined when he was younger that he'd delight in being messy and unorganized when he finally owned enough belongings to enable him to do so. He currently had a great many more than he had before a letter addressed to him made an appearance at number 4 Privet Drive.

Somehow though the lack of material possessions created within him an appreciation for the things he did have. He never tossed his quills into his bag or threw away a sheet of parchment just for a smudge or a tear. He folded his uniform, hung up his robes and wiped down his shoes every night. It is true they weren't as fine as Draco's or other Slytherins were. But they were his and just the pure novelty of having items that were his first and foremost, things he purchased with his own money no less, required him to treat them well and respect them.

Turning a page of the book he currently had -one about important wizarding families and their affiliations within the last generation- Harry mused that this was most likely the cause of his learning spells so quickly. Or so it seemed to his peers.

Harry was a child who grew in a magic-less, joyless environment. He appreciated magic for all of its worth and potential no matter how trivial or superfluous the spell or charm might be, how useless or silly. He saw all of it like a five-year-old at their first magician's show in one of the huge auditoriums with doves and water escapes. It was still magic to him, not just a tool he was learning to use. Because of this distinction Harry was quite able and willing to endure staying up late into the night to research the spells and theory they were learning in class. He was willing to strain his wrists and his shoulders repeating the necessary wand movements. To strain his eyes reading on the runes and sigils whose movements were based off of and how they helped shape the wizard's intentions in a physical way outside of their will.

He didn't believe he was any clever than anyone else. The children around him who grew up in magic households -nearly all of them- knew plenty of things he did not know. They knew how to make their hair grow longer or shine their shoes with a negligent flick. They knew why things were done the way they were and who had made it that way. Harry himself stumbled and struggled after them pretending he was just as knowledgeable when in reality he was sort of learning in reverse.

Harry shut the book with a frown. What should he do next?

He had already finished his weekly study plan for the unofficial charms study group he had with Davis and Nott. Mostly just summarizations of the theories and terminology they would be addressing in class the following week, along with easier example charms to show them to demonstrate similar wand movements or affects. He even had a small sheet of parchment outlined with the various questions he thought Nott might ask and vague or general answers to the ones he didn't know for sure with a note to look them up if the boy's questions did seem to be going in that direction.

There was no getting out of it now of course. It was decided that he was good at charms and now he must perform so. He had found that as long as he gave off the correct appearance and responses people would see things exactly as they expected to. They believed he was good at charms thus if he bluffed his way through an answer using information he does know and then brushed it off with a promise to tell them more later when he had more time to spend on the one question rather than a limited amount of time to explain the lesson for the week, they believed him. And when he showed up later in the evening with a full explanation and some references for Nott, the boy and their peers in hearing distance accepted it as him keeping his word.

It never occurred to them that he was simply going to the library and pouring through the stacks until he could piece together a reasonable explanation.

That was one of the only things about this new world and culture that Harry had going for him. People were so used to everyone around them knowing the game that they saw everything he did as a part of it, rather than the mistakes or bluffs they were. They weren't looking for a pretender, they were looking for a player. So, a player they did see.

Thank merlin Harry had always been a fast learner.

Harry tapped his fingers on the desk. Harry already restocked his potions kit. He already helped Professor Sprout down in the greenhouses this morning. His assistant duties had turned out quite enjoyable actually. It didn't hurt that the extra information that came with it helped him tremendously in positions class. Know the ingredients well enough and you can easily fix most mistakes without having to restart your potion, this saved your kit ingredients as well as the student ingredient closet, and almost always resulted with a passable elixir. Which, really, was sort of the point.

Harry pushed back from the desk and stood up, reaching out his arms to stretch. Honestly, he thought. It wasn't nearly as hard to pass a class as everyone seemed determined to make it out to be. Essays were the easiest form of homework known to mankind. That and filling in diagrams. It never took very long to write them out if you kept up on the information. What did everyone else even do with their free time?

Unsure what to do with himself and unwilling to search anyone out Harry wandered the stacks his table lay hidden within. Green eyes glanced over the titles of the various books. An alarming amount of them weren't even in any English. He'd be much over his head with anyone of them but guessing what they were about was momentarily entertaining and that was all he was aiming for.

Just as Harry finished the row he was on and rounded it to begin down the next side he nearly stumbled over another student. Harry skidded to a halt and reached out for the book shelf to study himself. Down at his feet sat a Ravenclaw student. Displayed on the floor around the student were parchments covered in mathematical equations and charts. Why they didn't just sit at a table was beyond Harry.

To his dismay his appearance did not go unnoticed. The boy, who must be a year or two older than Harry, turned his dark blue eyes onto Harry.

"Er…" Harry fumbled. "I'm sorry I didn't see you there. I will be more careful in the future." And he made to go around the Ravenclaw.

"Do you often find yourself moving through this section of the library at such a spirited pace?" A voice asked, startling Harry who hadn't been expecting a response. He stopped his motions and turned to the boy. He had tan skin sprinkled with faint golden freckles a shade or two lighter than the rest of his skin, and hair that was longer on the top than the sides. While Harry's hair was messy naturally he thought these curls were untidy on purpose. Realizing he was staring Harry snapped his eyes back to the Ravenclaw's blue ones. The boy looked amused. "Do you have an uncommon fondness for dry texts in foreign languages or are you hiding from someone?"

Taking a hopefully unnoticed breath Harry straightened into proper posture. "Perhaps I'm taking a stroll."

The Ravenclaw boy gave Harry a wry smile. "Ah of course. The time honoured tradition of eleven-year-olds traipsing through NEWT level literature. How silly of me not to realize."

The slight edge to the boys smile and the way his eyes danced gave Harry pause. If this boy were a first or a second year in Slytherin he would simply tilt his head and widen his eyes, affecting naivete and innocence as if he couldn't imagine why anyone would find that curious. But what to do with a Ravenclaw? He'd only ever met one to his knowledge and he hadn't seen nor spoken to her since she showed him the way to library. Deciding to go for it Harry widened his eyes.

"Is it such a strange thing to like to read and learn new things at this age?"

The Ravenclaw snorted. "Nice try kid. You ought to lower your chin and look up through your bangs when you do that. Like you're just a bit insecure."

Harry blinked. When the other boy continued to look at him expectantly Harry cautiously tilted his chin and down and peered at the Ravenclaw through his messy bangs, keeping his eyes wide. "Like this?"

A nod. "Much better Potter."

Harry blinked. If someone he didn't remember meeting was calling him by his name without asking for confirmation first than it was, as he had come to learn, someone who expected Harry to know who they were without a proper introduction. But Harry didn't have a clue who this other boy was. Something of his unease and embarrassment must have shown for the Ravenclaw boy let out a low laugh.

"Pretending will only get you so far Potter. Just because no one else has called you out on it doesn't mean they haven't noticed. Let's hope you prove to be a fast learner."

His cheeks flushed and his fingers tightened into fixed. Harry never liked to be laughed at. Feeling spiteful Harry turned the conversation back on the Ravenclaw. "It is too bad isn't? That you can't pretend your way to a passing grade." Harry knelt down and tapped one of the sheets of parchment in front of the other boy. "The answer there ought to have been seven. You'll have to redo the equation. It isn't the only mistake I've seen either." Harry allowed faux concern to colour his voice. "I do hope you'll be able to figure it out."

Harry left the Ravenclaw boy blinking behind him.

As time rolled on Harry noticed some interesting deviations in his classmate's behavior. Along with the changes in the castle marking the coming of Halloween (Dried herbs hung at entrances, carved out gourds with little candles lining the windowsills, and bats spells to randomly fly out of suits of armor….) the denizens of the castle had changes following suit. It wasn't the children wearing pumpkin pins on their scarves or the packs of girls sporting pointy boots and stuffed black familiars that drew his attention. Some of his classmates wore small pouches on strings around their necks, drew odd symbols on their inner wrists or the sides of their hands, whispered softly before eating their evening meals, and in his own dorm along the bench beside their enchanted window both Nott and Draco had placed pictures of family members, and candles.

He knew of course that it was some sort of tradition. Harry did his best not to let his gaze linger on these things for too long. Some of his classmates had other traditions, in Gryffindor Neville Longbottom took to wearing two golden rings around his neck and pinned two sprigs of dried rosemary to his cloak. Ronald Weasley and his brothers all wore pins with their family crest on them, one for Weasley and one for Prewett, their mother's house.

Everyone seemed to be doing something even if it was only carrying about a black plush feline, or smugly petting a real one. If anyone wondered why Harry did none of these things they didn't seem to think it necessary to ask him about it to his face.

But they did watch him.

He noticed it first from Nott and Davis who always watched him, but did so recently with a more direct and nearly expectant air. Even students like Bletchly (a third year who pinned the schedules to the bulletin board in the common room each week) or Zabini, who never spoke to Harry or even acknowledged him, were watching him from the corners of their eyes while they pretended to read. Waiting for something. Daphne Greengrass, who was wearing cat ear headbands instead of her beret, looked almost disappointed when she saw him.

It was during another individual study session in the library that Harry finally gained some insight to this phenomenon.

Harry was sitting in his usual place, cheek resting in his hand. He had of course tried looking up the various things his classmates were doing but his research was for once failing him utterly. Oh there were vague references but he'd come to the conclusion that the traditions were somewhat personal and learned. Things passed down and all very private. He knew it had to do with Halloween.

Feeling annoyed Harry took in a settling breath, pushed back his seat and made his way toward the nearest aisle. Over the last week he had run across the mysterious Ravenclaw twice more. The older boy would make a comment on Harry's presence and then correct something he felt Harry was doing wrong in some obvious way. Harry would retaliate by pointing out mathematical mistakes in the boy's work. As Harry approached the boy looked up, dark blue eyes roaming over Harry.

"So determined." The boy murmured. "What have I done to earn such focus my wandering first year?"

Harry briefly considered changing him mind. But he'd never know if he didn't ask and he certainly couldn't ask another Slytherin, and Seamus had already gone back to his common room. Nothing for it. "Can you explain to me, please, the traditions for Halloween?"

Annoying Ravenclaw Boy stared. His mouth started to move then abruptly he fell silent again, his eyes becoming serious. "Oh." He said simply. Wish a swish of his wand the books beside him pushed themselves back where they belonged. The boy motioned at the now empty space beside him. "Have a seat Potter."

And so Harry did.

"Rosier."

Harry blinked several times. "Um…?"

His lips quirked. "My name Potter. Louis Rosier."

"Oh." Harry flushed.

Rosier's blue eyes studied him. "I suppose that would make sense. A shame though." Harry wasn't altogether certain those comments were meant for him to respond to. "It is actually Trinouxtion Samonii or Samhain. Not Halloween. We are, those of us who keep to the older traditions, honouring our heritage and our ancestors. Those who bore magic and blood before us and in turn blessed us with it. It is a time to remember and a time to grieve. Even celebrate." He paused and waited for Harry to nod to show he was following him so far.

"The things you've been seeing around reflect which traditions the families represented around you follow. There are things done to pay homage to our magic. 'Sacrificing' a small portion of a meal or a desert by setting it aside rather than eating it. Leaving out a dish of wine or moon water. Candle magics and blessings. And remembering those who have left us, whether in spirit or in a more permanent sense."

They spent the rest of the evening discussing the ways this was done and where the traditions came from. By the end of it, when the torches were burning dimly and most everyone else had left the library, Harry felt he understood the wizards around him in a more intimate way then he had before. Even Rosier was more of a person to him than just a face with a superior attitude. Each of the children around him had their stories. Their family histories and memories and close ones they had lost. It made them all…people….instead of potential obstacles. He felt a bit guilty for viewing them all through a lens that focused on what they could do for him or what they could make harder for him. Even Draco who was always just a bit arrogant had set a picture on the bench beside the window in their dorm and lit a candle.

When he mentioned this to Rosier the boy informed him on a whisper that it was probably Draco's grandfather, the head of his family. The man's health wasn't as it once though he was still young as far as wizards went really. Then Rosier told Harry it wasn't generally polite to speak about the health of a head of a family, though everyone knew about it.

"It is really a private thing for all we make a show of it." Rosier was saying. "How you honour the days of summer's end if personal. It is meant to be something meaningful." He gave a wry smile. "Not that that keeps us from wanting everyone else to know just how much we uphold our traditions. A lot of us with older houses and longer histories have family grimoires. They're passed down through the family. Father to son. You only ever get three entries. One at age ten just before school, one at thirteen after your magical core balances and you officially leave childhood, and again at seventeen when you take on the responsibilities of a full wizard. You can read memories and information shared and passed down from your father and your great-grandfather. Sort of as a way to get to know them beyond a portrait or a photograph or even their reputation. After all, the oldest houses all share the same core value. Family first. Always."

Harry poured over books Rosier suggested for him, adding in bits of information Harry would never have come by without him. All through it the older wizard gave Harry considering looks that Harry wasn't certain he meant to notice or react to. Like the boy had gotten an unexpected answer to a question. As they left the library Rosier walked Harry to the corridor leading down to the dungeons before breaking off to head up the stairs and make the long trek to the Ravenclaw tower. Neither one had spoken during the walk so Harry was surprised when he heared Rosier whisper his name. Harry paused at the steps leading down to Slytherin twrrirotry to turn back toward the other boy.

"Playing the part only works for so long Potter. You can't expect other people to accept you until you learn to accept yourself. This is a part of who you are. This is a part of your heritage and your history. You came from magic. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to stop pretending to be a wizard and start actually being one, and everything that entails." He turned his back to Harry and continued up the stairs. "Goodnight Potter." What was it with random older wizards giving Harry advice in empty hallways at night?

When Harry made it back to his dorm that night he realized Rosier hadn't insulted him even once. He wasn't certain how he felt about that development.

And then, lying in bed, it suddenly clicked. Everyone knew Harry's parents were dead. Not one person in the wizarding world didn't know that. They probably thought he was cold for not thinking to honour his parents or at least making a token gesture for it. What child wouldn't? Harry hadn't known it was a thing that was done before this year of course but that didn't stop the pangs in his heart at the realization, nor the guilt. Did they think he didn't care for his parents? That he didn't appreciate their sacrifice?

It was a long night for Harry.

He wrestled and rolled in his bed. Around two in the morning Harry sat up with a groan. There had to be something he could do. He pushed off his blanket and pulled up his knees, resting his chin on them. The problem was that he had no idea what the Potters traditions were or how to properly make a gesture to honour them. He supposed he could pseudo-copy his peers. Leaving a candle on the window perhaps. But that didn't feel right. He didn't think there was anything honourable simply imitating a tradition or a culture. What was the point if you didn't actually understand it?

Harry let out his breath in a lonely sigh. How odd. Alone in the dark of his bed with the curtains drawn, yet surrounded by magical children. He should have grown up in this world. He should have known to honour his parents every October, known that they died for him. That they died fighting. Harry's left hand slowly curled into a fist. Well, Harry could be a fighter too.

He sat up and reached out toward the foot of the bed until he felt the strap of his bookbag. His fingers closed around it and pulled it up to him. He didn't know how to do any of those other things but he could do one of them at least. He founds the book he was looking for and stilled, fingertips roaming over the worn cover. Harry sat back against his pillows and flipped the book open to the right page from muscle memory at this point. He would read those words with new eyes.

*"Potter is the surname of an old wizarding family descended from Ignotus Peverell and Linfred of Stinchcombe. The Potters are Pureblooded yet they were intentionally excluded from the Sacred Twenty-Eight due to their then egalitarian stance on blood purity. The Potters have traditionally been sorted into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft....."*


End file.
